Secrets of a Dead Man
by theflockroxmysox
Summary: Henry has gone missing. Well, that's not entirely true. He left a blood stain on his carpet. To catch the man responsible, Shawn and Gus are going to have to revisit one of Henry's old cases, and dig up some troubling secrets along the way.
1. Fathers

**Disclaimer: Let's get the straight now – I do not own Psych. K? K.**

**Thanks for clicking on this story! I hope you enjoy it (: Also, if you are a fan of White Collar or Leverage, you should check out some of my other stories on my page.**

**Psych Quote of the Day: "Is that Lassiter? What died on his face?" ~ Gus**

**-O-**

**Chapter 1**

**Fathers**

_**1990**_

"_Dad! Dad!" The sound of footsteps slapping on the porch accompanied the sound of Henry's son's voice, the screen door slamming as Shawn rounded the corner."Dad!"_

"_What, Shawn?" Henry sighed, setting down his newspaper._

"_Gus is missing!"_

"_What?" Henry sat up at the sound of panic in his son's voice._

"_We're playing hide 'n seek. I can't find him anywhere!"_

_Henry relaxed. He should have known that Shawn had been exaggerating. He sighed again. "Okay, Shawn. Think about this. Look around. See if anything's different than you remember it. An upturned carpet, an open door. Go back the beginning, Shawn. See if you can remember what direction he was headed when you closed your eyes."_

_Shawn nodded, closing his eyes. Henry watched his son, a single chuckle escaping him as his son threw open his eyes, turned, and sprinted into the other room. A moment later, shouts of "Found you!" and "Aw, you cheated!" drifted into the kitchen._

_Henry chuckled again, shaking his head as he flipped open his newspaper once more._

-O-

"Shawn, for the seventeenth time, I will _not_ stand outside of the police department dressed as a giant pineapple just to see how many people ask for a sample!" Gus glared at his friend.

Shawn and Gus had been arguing over this the whole way to their favorite breakfast restaurant. Gus had even almost run a red light as he'd turned to Shawn in annoyance. Now they took their seats on the veranda connected to the restaurant, Shawn frowning as he tried to come up with a retort.

"Why…" Shawn's voice trailed off as he caught sight of a figure exiting the restaurant. "Dude, Gus, menus!" he flicked his own menu up in front of his face.

"What? Why?"

"Gus! Shawn!"

"Dammit, Gus!" Shawn sighed, slamming his menu down on the table as his father walked over. He watched, a disgusted sneer forming on his face, as Henry said something to the woman on his arm before departing.

"Who's that?" Shawn asked.

"Who, Laura? She's just an old friend," Henry seemed surprised at Shawn's interest in the woman.

"More like an old flame," Shawn countered. "Emphasis on the _old._ Out to breakfast, huh? What, did she spend the night, too?"

"What is wrong with you, Shawn?" Henry was shocked at his son's suddenly aggressive behavior.

"What's wrong with me? I'm not the one gallivanting off with a woman I've never even told my son about!"

Henry sighed, glancing at Gus, who was doing his best pretending to be engrossed in the menu in front of him. "I'm not having this argument with you now, Shawn. Tell you what, come by later tonight and I'll answer all of your questions regarding 'that woman'."

Shawn scoffed. "Yeah, right, so you can dump some more of your infinite wisdom on me? Not a chance, old man."

Henry opened his mouth to reply, and closed it. He threw his arms out to his sides. "Do what you want, Shawn," he said, storming away.

"Dude, what was that about?" Gus asked as soon as Henry was out of earshot.

"I don't know, Gus," Shawn said, brushing it off. He picked up his menu. "Homemade hashbrowns?" he scoffed. "Yeah, right. I seriously doubt that… wait, homemade," he looked up, his face broadening into a wide smile. "Gus, I just solved our murder case!"

-O-

"Chief, I am sensing that our killer used custom made bullets, and that is why you could not ID the gun," Shawn was in the middle of one of his theatrical performances, his hand flying up to his temple as he flinched at nothing.

"Custom made bullets," Lassiter cut in. "Only Lance Herrera would have been capable of making those."

"Congratulations, Spencer, looks like you just found us a new suspect," Chief Vick nodded to the two partners, who were busy fist-bumping as they walked out the doors.

-O-

Dusk was falling as Shawn made his way along the back roads that led to his apartment, the roar of his motorcycle and the whistling of wind in his ears the only sounds in the still night air. The surrounding landscape blurred by him as he rounded a bend – only to find himself in front of his father's house. He hadn't meant to come here. He'd been avoiding his father all day, so why had he guided his motorcycle unintentionally to his house? He swallowed, tempted to turn back around and leave. His father wouldn't have to know he had ever been here, he could leave now and go on ignoring him.

Shawn swung the kickstand down and dismounted his bike. Dirt and gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way up to the front porch, hesitating before knocking.

There was no response. Shawn waited a moment, and knocked again. Nothing. No "Just a minute!" or "Hold your horses, Shawn!". Just the cold, complete silence. Shawn tried the door knob – it twisted and the door swung open. That was the first indication that something was amiss. Henry always locked the door when he wasn't home. This door wasn't locked.

Shawn stepped warily over the threshold. "Dad?" he called out cautiously, scanning the room. "Dad!"

His eyes fell on the far corner of the carpet. A dark shadow rested there, and as Shawn made his way over to it a feeling of dread crept up his spine.

His breath caught in his throat as he stood over the shadow. The shadow that was, upon closer inspection, a collection of dried blood splatters.

**-O-**

**So this was really short, and not my best chapter ever, but there WAS a cliffhanger, and I promise the next chapter will be better. Reviews are loved and appreciated.**


	2. Blood Red

**Things should get **_**slightly**_** more interesting this chapter. Hopefully. There isn't much action, but it's…. well, read and you'll find out :)**

**Psych Quote of the Day: **

**Shawn: Good morning, detectives, are we collecting donations for the policeman's ball?  
Lassie: We don't have balls.**

**-O-**

**Chapter 2**

**Blood Red  
**

_His breath caught in his throat as he stood over the shadow. The shadow that was, upon closer inspection, a collection of dried blood splatters._

With only a split second's hesitation, Shawn whipped out his phone and dialed his father's number. He'd barely held it up to his ear when he heard his father's voice.

"Dad-"

"Obviously, I'm not able to answer my phone right now. So leave a message," it was a recording.

His phone was off.

Shawn swore, kneeling down to inspect the stains as he dialed Gus's number.

"Burton Guster, pharmaceutical salesman. How may I ease your pain?"

"How may I ease your pain, dude? Really, _that's_ your catchphrase?" Shawn asked incredulously.

Gus sighed audibly. "Shawn, how many time have I told you not to call me on my work ph-"

"My dad's missing," Shawn burst out.

"What?"

"My dad's missing!"

"Are you sure he's not out with that woman, Laura?"

Shawn wanted to yell at him, at _something_. How could Gus not understand? If Henry had been out with Laura, Shawn wouldn't have been as panicked as he was!

"Yes I'm sure! The door was unlocked, and there's blood on the carpet!" Shawn fought the rising panic he felt. There was no need to get worked up. His father had probably just cut himself with a knife, and gone to the hospital. But in the living room? What could he have been using the knife for in there? And – Shawn craned his neck to peer out the window – his truck was still here. Okay, so maybe a little panic was acceptable.

Gus didn't reply at first. When he did, all traces of annoyance had left his voice. "Shawn, I'm on my way. Meet me at the station."

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before replying with a simple "K," and hanging up. He knew Gus was right, and he should go to the station. But a part of him didn't want to, didn't want to accept the fact that his dad was probably in trouble. He felt compelled to search the house, wondering if his dad had merely fallen into a drunken sleep somewhere and just hadn't heard Shawn calling for him. Only he had a feeling he wouldn't find anything.

-O-

"Spencer, what are you doing here?" Lassiter snapped, catching sight of the psychic as soon as he entered the building. "And where's Guster? You two have a cat fight?"

Shawn made a face, but didn't attempt a rebut. "Lassie, I'm here to report a missing persons case."

The head detective snorted, looking around to see if anyone else shared his amusement. "This ought to be good. All right, which imaginary friend ran away this time?"

"My father."

Shawn felt a small sense of triumph at Lassiter's sudden silence. The detective frowned, gauging Shawn's expression as though trying to determine if this was a joke or not. Finally, he decided on a reply. "Spencer, I don't know if this is some sort of joke or not, but you have to wait twenty-four hours to report someone missing."

Shawn bit back a retort. "What about twenty-four minutes?" He asked. Lassiter glared at him. "Seconds?" Shawn added. Lassiter began to walk away. "Lassie, wait!" He would have run after him, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Shawn!" Gus had appeared behind him. He pocketed his keys, breathing hard as though he'd sprinted all the way from his car, as he looked his friend over with a worried expression. "Is it true?"

Shawn turned to face his friend. "No, Gus, I'm making it all up. Of course it is, man!"

Gus looked skeptically at him. "Well, what did Lassiter say?"

"That I can't report anyone missing for twenty-four hours."

Gus let out a scoff, and strode purposefully in the direction of the chief's office.

"Where are you going?" Shawn called out, jogging to catch up.

"Well, you talked to Lassiter. I'm talking to Chief Vick."

Shawn stopped, staring after his friend in confusion as he entered the office. He wasn't confused as to Gus's idea, per se, more the surprise that he hadn't thought of the idea himself. Of course Chief Vick would help. She _had_ to. And she was friends with Henry. She'd understand Shawn's urgency. She _had_ to.

"Hello to you too, Mr. Guster. Mr Spencer," she nodded, furrowing her brow as they burst into her office.

"Look, chief, here's the thing. Lassie said we couldn't file a missing persons report until twenty-four hours have gone by," Gus offered.

"And you need to make a report because…?" She asked through thinly veiled impatience.

"My dad's missing," Shawn said. Every time he said those words, they sank in for him a little more, stopping him from coming up with any more wild theories and instead making him face the probable truth.

Chief Vick sat up. "Henry?" When Shawn's only answer was to frown deeper, her expression softened. "Unfortunately, Detective Lassiter is correct. I can't-"

"Blood!" Shawn cut in.

"Excuse me?"

"There was blood on the floor. The door was unlocked."

Chief Vick stood up. "Are you sure?" One look at Shawn's grim face told her that was a stupid question. "Right. Well, I suppose it can't hurt to send a few officers over to check it out."

-O-

The door was still open. Shawn hadn't closed it in his rush to get to the station, and it stilled stood ajar, letting the cool evening air in as moonlight spilled over the threshold. Shawn glanced at Gus, who was watching his friend with a concerned expression, and stepped into the house. He was followed by Lassiter and Juliet, who where both somewhat skeptical of Shawn's claims.

All of theirs skepticisms faded as they rounded the corner into the living room. Shawn braced himself for the sight of the blood, watching with only mild amusement as Gus did his very best to stay as far away from the blood as possible. Shawn stood back, watching with his mouth slightly parted, trying to quell his rising emotions, as the two detectives knelt near the splatters.

All of a sudden Lassiter stood up, a flat object grasped between a gloved forefinger and thumb. It was a rose petal, blood red and slightly curled and browning at the tips.

"What's that?" Juliet asked, rising to join him. Shawn stepped forward.

"I don't know," Lassiter answered thoughtfully. "It can't have been placed there accidentally."

"It wasn't," Shawn said. Everyone turned to look at him. His hand was shaking slightly as he reached out and took the petal from Lassiter. His mouth was parted in shock from his revelation, and his voice cracked as he spoke. He did his best to cover it. "Twenty-five years ago, my dad arrested one of the most notorious serial killers of the time," he spoke softly, afraid his fear would come out in his voice. "This was his signature mark."

-O-

Back at the station, Lassiter wasted no time in giving out orders.

"McNab!"

"Yessir?"

"I need you to look up something in the evidence files."

"Okay, what?"

"Rose petals."

McNab paused, glancing skeptically at the detective.

"Now!"

McNab winced and ran off.

Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no way this was a coincidence. And there was no more room for his more domestic theories. His dad was in trouble. If he wasn't already dead. Shawn winced as the thought crossed his mind, and he tried to ignore it by telling himself that if the guy had wanted Henry dead, Shawn would have found much more than a few drops of blood on the carpet.

Lassiter turned to Shawn. "Spencer, what else do you remember about this serial killer?"

Shawn hesitated, squinting as he tried to remember. At last he gave up. "I don't – I can't remember!" Shawn cried out in frustration, collapsing on the conveniently placed bench. Gus sat next to him as McNab came running up.

Lassiter tore his gaze away from Shawn. "For the love of God, tell me you found something."

McNab nodded, placing a file in the detective's outstretched hand. "Some guy named Timothy Rayburn used to leave rose petals at his crime scenes," he glanced over at the slouched figure of the psychic. "What's this about?"

Lassiter didn't answer, flipping the file open instead. His eyes fell on the most recent entry, and he uttered a curse. Shawn looked up, and Juliet walked over.

"What is it?" Juliet asked, just barely stopping herself from asking "What's wrong?"

"Timothy Rayburn was released from prison two days ago."

**-O-**

**Well, this can't be good. Wonder what's gonna happen next!... Actually, I don't. But you do. (: So what are you waiting for? Review!**


	3. Last Words

**I know it's been a while since I last updated, so sorry about that. But I'm here now! (: This is going to be a really short chapter though, basically like a filler.**

**Psych Quote of the Day:** **"Kudos on the childrearing. Let me know how the therapy goes." ~ Shawn**

**-O-**

**Chapter 3**

**Last Words**

_"Timothy Rayburn was released from prison two days ago."_

Lassiter's words were followed by silence. Gus glanced worriedly at his friend, who'd winced at the information, but hadn't lifted his gaze from the ground.

"Is he on parole?" Juliet asked finally.

"No. It says here he got out early on good behavior," Lassiter barely had time to get the words out before Shawn scoffed at his words. Everyone turned to him, expecting him to say more, but he was silent.

"Okay," Lassiter broke the silence again. "O'Hara, you report back to the chief and meet me at the crime scene-" Shawn winced again, "-_possible_ crime scene," Lassiter corrected, "Spencer, I don't know what it is you and I'm not interested in learning. Just do it," the detective handed the case file to McNab as he walked away. Juliet cast one last worried look in Shawn's direction before following her partner.

No sooner had they left than Shawn stood up from the bench. His movement was so sudden it took Gus a moment to realize what he was doing and copy him. Shawn took the file from McNab and turned to face Gus.

"_Go back the beginning, Shawn."_

Shawn swallowed, the memory of his father only adding to the stress of the situation. He held the file up for Gus to see. "They're not gonna find anything else," he proclaimed, provoking a confused look from Gus. "Everything we need is right here."

-O-

The file on Timothy Rayburn was thick. Gus tried to concentrate on what he was reading, but that proved to be difficult, what with Shawn drumming his fingers, tossing a baseball in the air, tapping his foot, and just generally displaying signs of ADD. They were back at the Psych office after having sneaked the file out of the station. Gus sat at his desk, reading over it, as Shawn waited silently in the recliner on the opposite side of the room. A silent Shawn was never a good sign. It meant he was really worked up about the whole situation. And if he was so upset, then that meant that there was a better-than-good chance that Henry really was in trouble.

For a while, the only sound in the office was the flipping pages of the file, and the incessant tapping of Shawn's feet. Gus kept glancing at his friend, wondering what was going through his mind.

He found out.

"It's my fault, Gus."

Gus glanced at his friend, not sure where this was going.

"If I hadn't overreacted this morning, he wouldn't have gone home as soon as he did."

"You don't know that, Shawn," Gus tried to comfort his friend.

Shawn ignored his comment. "The woman wasn't my mom."

Gus furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why Shawn would say something so obvious.

"You want to know the truth, Gus? I can't stand the sight of my dad with another woman."

"Why, because you don't want him to be happy?"

Shawn barely registered the sarcasm. "No. Because none of them are my mom."

Gus didn't know what to say to that. Shawn's parents had divorced many years ago, and Shawn had never shown any signs of it bothering him, until now.

"You know what the last thing I said to my dad was?" Shawn grimaced. "I told him he was an old man, and to get out."

Gus had had enough. He stood up abruptly, the chair screeching as it slid across the floor. He walked over to Shawn, and stood in front of him, hands crossed. Night had fallen several hours ago, casting its dark shadow on Santa Barbara. It was the time when most people would be tucked into their beds, slipping into unconsciousness for the rest of the night. It was also the time when the best bars were open.

-O-

The bright shaft of light streaming in through the closed window was what woke Henry Spencer the next morning. The first thing he was aware of was the continued pulsing ache that was his head. He tried to remember if he'd had anything to drink the night before, but his mind drew a blank. And his muscles were stiff, as though they'd been tensed in a certain position for too long. He tried to stretch his arms, but they wouldn't move. Figuring that they were just as stiff as the rest of the body, he stretched harder.

And the ropes dug into his wrists.

Henry's eyes snapped open. He tried to stand up, only to be met with the same feeling of ropes digging into his skin. He craned his neck to look behind the chair he was sitting in. His hands were tied together by a length of rope. Cop instincts took over, and he immediately quelled the rising panic. His eyes flicked over the room, taking in his surroundings. The room wasn't a typical hostage-holding room. The walls were painted a soft, almost white yellow. The floor was carpeted and clean. Windows with parted curtains were set into the far wall, providing the light that had woken him. A light-fan combo was installed in the ceiling, and the door was an inviting shade of white.

The whole friendly appearance of the place was broken, however, by the padlocks and bars on the windows.

And the fact that he was tied down to the only piece of furniture in the room. A hostage. Who could possibly want to hold him hostage?

The answer came two seconds later as the door opened. And a man from Henry's nightmares walked in, a grin plastered on his face.

"Morning, Henry," Timothy Rayburn said, smiling jovially at Henry's shocked expression.

The shock didn't last for long. "It wasn't enough that you went after my son, now you have to go after me, too?" Henry spat.

Tim chuckled. "Old age hasn't made you weak, I see."

"So, Rayburn, did you break out of prison for this?" Henry asked, attempting to look bored. Honestly, the panic had begun to rise again, ever since Tim had walked into the room. Henry had been the leading officer on the case against him. He knew what this man did to his victims. For fun.

"Nope," Tim smiled again. "I was released early on good behavior," he chuckled ironically.

Henry wondered why he hadn't heard about that earlier. "Okay, so why am I here?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Tim teased. "You know, before I was convicted, I had a life. I had a wife. I had friends."

"Who were all very happy to see you behind bars," Henry countered.

A glimmer of anger entered Tim's eyes. He walked forward so that he was standing right over Henry, an insane look crossing his face briefly as he hissed, "You ruined my life. Now it's my turn."

**-O-**

**You know the drill!**


	4. Thoughts

**New chapter! Fans of Shules will like this chapter :)**

**Psych Quote of the Day:** **"Shawn, don't you **_**dare**_** learn a wrong lesson while I'm trying to teach you a right lesson!" ~ Henry**

**-O-**

**Chapter 4**

**Thoughts**

It was late. Shawn couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed over night at his father's house – willingly, anyway. He'd gone back to look for evidence, thought what he thought he might find escaped him.

So he retreated to the living room couch where he didn't have to stare at the dried and crusted blood stains. His father's blood. His father, who he had always ignored and never appreciated. His father, who had always pushed him and rarely praised him, and was annoying, controlling, over-protective, completely unwilling to compromise on anything… His father, who he may never see again.

Shawn unconsciously hugged the pillow he was clutching closer to his chest, staring vacantly at the blank television screen. Once upon a time he'd hid behind this very couch, late at night, as his father watched some scary movie or another. Sometimes he'd run up the stairs screaming. Sometimes he'd lie awake in bed all night, afraid to close his eyes until his mom came in and checked inside the closet.

His mom. Shawn had withheld from calling her. He didn't want her to worry. Calling her meant there was something to worry about. He pressed the pillow against his chest, eyes blinking wearily. No, he couldn't fall asleep. What if Henry came home?

The front steps creaked suddenly, shattering the silence like a bullet penetrating glass. Shawn shot up. The creaking continued. Not knowing what else to do, Shawn grabbed the nearest thing and held it over his head like a sword, prepping himself to swing as he crept over to the door. Thrusting it open, he froze.

Juliet stood there, looking uncertain. She erupted into laughter at the sight of Shawn.

"Is that a pineapple?" She laughed.

Shawn, who had still been poised to strike, lowered his arm. "Jules! What are you doing here?" he stepped aside to let her in.

"I came to see if you were okay, Shawn."

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be okay?" Shawn chuckled falsely. Juliet just looked at him, and that was all it took for him to break his indifferent exterior. "What do you think, Jules?" Without waiting for a response, he wandered aimlessly back over to the couch.

Juliet watched him collapse forlornly into the cushions with a quiet sigh, looking for the entire world like anyone _but_ Shawn Spencer. There had to be something she could do to take his mind off it –

"What are you doing?" Shawn asked skeptically.

"Choosing a movie."

Shawn paused a beat. "Just don't choose any Alfred Hitchcock's."

Juliet's breath hitched in her throat at the mention of the director, and the underlying dark reminder of that psycho Yin's twisted games. She forced herself to calm down, that was the past and Shawn needed _her_ now.

Grabbing the remote, she sat herself gently on the couch at his side.

Shawn didn't acknowledge her at first, his gaze focused on the screen. "_Alone in the Dark_, really, Jules?"

She shrugged. Shawn tilted his head to gaze at her. They sat like that for a few moments, neither paying attention to the move, only staring into each other's eyes. Juliet squeezed Shawn's hand in a comforting gesture, only to have him withdraw his hand and turn away to face the screen. She watched him worriedly as he pretended to be absorbed in the movie, the light from the screen casting deep shadows onto his face and deepening his frown.

"It just doesn't make sense," he said finally.

"What, Shawn?"

He looked at her. "If my dad put this guy away for murder_s_, emphasis on the _s,_ why is he already out of jail? Shouldn't he be on Death Row or something?"

Juliet sighed. She'd known that she would have to explain this to Shawn sooner or later. "Your – Henry didn't arrest him on murder charges. Only kidnapping. They found him before he'd had a chance to kill his last victim, but there was no evidence to link him to the other murders."

Shawn swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. When he turned to Juliet it was with uncertainty in his eyes. "Is it weird to wish that they'd been too late?"

Juliet didn't answer. She couldn't. She turned away from Shawn, watching absentmindedly as Hawkes theorized about the doctor.

"Jules," Shawn's voice was quiet, more of a question of acceptance than a call to her.

Slowly she turned to face him. He was gazing at her, and all of a sudden his weary expression was too much to bear to see. She leaned forward, and her lips met his. Taken by surprise, it took him a moment to return the kiss. Juliet could tell it had lifted his mood somewhat, but it still lacked the usual passion she felt radiating from him whenever they kissed. Before she could do anything to change that, Shawn broke away. Juliet was offended at first, until she saw that he was smirking.

"My dad'll kill us if we do this on the couch," he grinned.

Juliet returned the smile. "Well, you still have a room, here, don't you?"

She expected Shawn to smile and leap off the couch, but instead he slouched back down, the smile fading. "Let's, uh, finish watching the movie. This is my favorite part."

Juliet sighed, wishing that Shawn would just _stop_ giving her reasons to worry. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was clear Shawn was done talking, so instead she just leaned her head against his shoulder, smiling when she felt Shawn's hand grip hers.

-O-

"_Daddy! Daddy!" Young Shawn came crashing into the house, the door slamming open and startling Henry, who had been reading the newspaper. _

"_Shawn, what have I told you about slamming the door?" Henry snapped._

_Shawn ignored him. He ran over to his father's side and began tugging at his sleeve. "Come on! I want to show you what I made in art class today!" He tugged again, his already nonexistent patience dwindling as his father continued to refuse to move._

"_Well can't you just bring it in here to show me?" Henry asked, yanking his arm free from Shawn's grasp._

"_No! It's too big!"_

"_Too big?" Henry was suddenly wary of what his son had brought home._

"_Yep!" Shawn skipped out of the house, at the last second remembering to close the door quietly, excited to have finally gotten his father's attention._

_Henry made his way quickly out to the front yard, halting in his tracks when he saw what Shawn had brought home._

"_You said I could have a gecko if he had a friend!" Shawn yelled across the lawn._

_Henry didn't answer at first, too stunned to do anything but stare at the giant paper mache lizard that perched on the edge of the lawn, it's head coming up to Shawn's waist. Its beady eyes stared at Henry, as if agreeing with Shawn. It was a perfect large scale model of a lizard. Henry would've thought that Shawn had got Gus to build it for him, if it hadn't been for the beaming smile plastered onto his son's face as he waited for his father's approval. _

"_Don't you think that s too big to fit in a cage?" _

_Shawn's smile dropped from his face immediately, and he frowned down at the model as though he hadn't thought of that. _

"_But- can I still get a gecko?"_

_Henry sighed. "Yes, Shawn. But only because you did such a nice job on your sculpture," Ah, what the heck. It would be dead within the week, anyway._

_Shawn beamed, and the next thing Henry knew, he was latching onto his side in a giant hug._

That was the first time his father had ever praised him on anything.

**-O-**

**Awww! Reviews are very much appreciated!**


	5. Revelation

**First off, I am SO sorry for not updating for like, over a month! I've just had major writer's block, which sucked. But here I am! And I already have an idea for my next Psych story!**

**Psych Quote of the Day: "Oh brown snowman Gus… I think I'll miss you most of all." ~ Shawn**

**-O-**

**Chapter 5**

**Revelations**

The first thing Shawn noticed when he walked into the Psych office the next morning – and it was morning, for a change – was the sound of crumpling paper and the squeal of a desk drawer. _Dammit!_ What was Gus doing here so early? Shawn had been hoping to have the office to himself for a little while to review the Rayburn case file _before_ Gus got there.

"Shawn, is that you?" Gus's voice sounded strange, almost slurred, as it floated in from the next room. Furrowing his brows, Shawn slipped inside. And froze.

Gus was slumped in his office chair, head propped on his hand. He blinked at Shawn with heavy lids, his eyes themselves ringed with dark circles. His mouth opened in a wide yawn as he closed the file sitting open in front of him.

"Were you here all night?" Shawn asked, incredulous. Gus sat up.

"No!"

Shawn made a "pffft" sound and rolled his eyes. "Gus, don't try to lie to a psychic!"

"You are not psychic, Shawn!"

"Not so loud!" Shawn brought a finger to his lips.

Gus sighed, pushing the case file away from him. He acted annoyed, but he was honestly relieved. Relieved that Shawn was his normal self, if only a little bit more agitated than normal. Relieved that he wouldn't have to talk about what he'd read in the case file, what he'd stayed up all night reading over and over, trying to find some mistake.

"It's too early for anybody to be out, Shawn! Who's going to hear us? The seagulls?" Almost as an afterthought, he added, "What are you doing here so early, anyway?"

Shawn threw his hands in the air. "_Trying_ to beat you here so I can read the file! But obviously that's not possible, since _you_ spent the entire night here!"

"I did not! – Fine. Whatever," Gus, realizing there was no point in arguing, folded his arms and rubbed his eyes.

Shawn shouted victoriously, and smiled. He stared at his friend, amazed by this act. Gus cared enough about his friend, even if it was only his father, to spend his entire night reading and re-reading and analyzing the case. Whereas Shawn had been sobbing into Juliet's shoulder all night. Okay, maybe not sobbing, but it wasn't nearly as productive.

"So, buddy, what'd you find in that file you so meticulously read?"

Gus hesitated.

"Well? Out with it! I didn't get here early to leave late!"

Gus raised his eyebrows and scoffed. "That made no sense, Shawn!" Shawn looked sideways at Gus, and waited. "Fine, but you aren't going to like it."

"Gus, when have I ever 'not liked' something?" Air quotes around "not liked".

Gus ignored him, and flipped open the file. He cleared his throat, glancing nervously over the top of the paper at Shawn. He was standing there with an annoyed expression now, but Gus knew that in a few minutes he'd be slouched in the chair, shocked. Gus was still shocked, even though he'd read it almost three hours ago. Every time he looked at Shawn now, it was like he was seeing a different person. All because of what the file held.

"Okay, well, um, there is a pattern to Rayburn's killings."

"And? What is it?"

"Will you let me finish? I was getting there! Rayburn always kidnaps his victims before he murders them," he glanced at Shawn as he spoke. His friend's face had contorted into an unreadable frown. "No one knows why."

"All right, that's good, I guess. That means my dad's probably still alive," he faked cheerfulness, but Gus had known him long enough to see through the charade. Shawn was afraid.

"Shawn?"

"I'm fine, Gus."

"I know, but Shawn-"

"What, do I have tartar sauce on my shirt?" Shawn looked down.

"No. There was something else in the case file."

"And?"

This was the part Gus was dreading. He didn't know how this would affect Shawn. Would he be angry, upset? Shell-shocked?

"Well, the police never did catch Rayburn on murder charges. They caught him because-"

"He was caught in the middle of one of his kidnappings, I know, Juliet told me last night. Just get on with it, please."

Gus raised his eyebrows. Juliet? Last night? He didn't ask. It was probably better that he didn't know. And he had other things on his mind at the moment.

"Yeah… Shawn, you're not going to like this."

"So you've said!" Shawn was growing impatient.

"It was a little boy, Shawn. It was a little boy they found."

"And? How is this going to help find my dad?"

Gus ignored him. "The little boy was you, Shawn."

**-O-**

**O.o**

**Okay, super short chapter, I know. Like I said, still getting over writer's block. Anyways, I hope that dramatic cliffhanger made up for the "4' 5"ness" of this chapter. Reviews are welcomed with open arms. But not in a creepy way.**


	6. Delivery from Death

**I thought two chapters in one night would help make up for the looonng wait :). Plus, I just watched "Mr. Yin Presents", and it gave me a great idea that's going to completely throw my story off of the plot I had set up, but that's okay. And has anyone else realized how depressing that episode is?**

**Psych Quote of the Day: **

**Shawn: The same way I know that as a child Lassie wanted nothing more than a pony.**

**Lassiter: Oh, come on, who didn't?**

**Gus: Anyone who wasn't an eight year-old girl.**

**-O-**

**Chapter 6**

**Delivery from Death**

_"You ruined my life. Now it's my turn."_

Timothy Rayburn's last words refused to leave Henry alone. They kept shouting in his mind, the incessant sound of fingers tapping the table, times three. Rayburn had to know that he wouldn't get away with this, so why was he doing it? He had to know that Henry's son was Shawn Spencer, the incredibly successful psychic who worked for the SBPD. And he probably did know. He'd missed his shot fifteen years ago, and he was planning to take another shot, now, through Henry.

Fifteen years ago. Henry _hated_ that memory. It had been a mere stroke of luck that they hadn't been too late. An hour later and he would have walked into that trailer to find five-year-old Shawn's corpse. Fortunately, "Uncle Tim" hadn't been as thorough as he'd thought.

No doubt he'd learned from his mistakes.

The door opened. Not the cliché "flew open as the villain stormed into the room", it just opened. Tim waltzed in so casually an onlooker would have thought that this scene was normal.

"Morning, Henry. Would you like to know what I have planned for the day's events?" Rayburn spoke in an easy drawl, something Henry hadn't noticed before.

"Please, enlighten me," Henry feigned nonchalance.

Tim turned his back to Henry and fiddled with something. When he turned back around, he held a camera.

"I have a surprise for your dear boy, Shawn."

-O-

_Gus ignored him. "The little boy was you, Shawn."_

Shawn, who had been reaching into the fridge for a pudding cup, froze. He blinked. And blinked again. And shook his head. And looked at Gus.

"What?" his voice cracked on the single word.

Gus waited, knowing that Shawn wasn't really speaking to him. He was processing the information. And processing. And processing.

No – not true – can't be possible – wha – how… No. No no no no no no no. _Hell_, no. "Very funny, Guster," Shawn's glare let him know that it wasn't funny at all.

Gus waited.

Shawn sank into the armchair. Looked out the window. At the floor. At Gus. Out the window. "Wha… H-he… he never told me, Gus," Shawn looked at his friend for help. "He never told me. Why wouldn't he tell me?" Shawn was suddenly on his feet. "That's not something you keep from your son!" he shouted.

"He must have had his reasons, Shawn," Gus stood up as well, trying to calm Shawn down.

"What reasons, Gus?" Shawn burst out before he could stop himself. "What reasons?"

Gus shrugged, completely at a loss.

"Jules," Shawn said suddenly. "Jules. She knew. Gus, she knew!" _She didn't tell me, either!_

"Let me see that file," Shawn said after a minute. Reluctantly, Gus handed it over.

Shawn gaped at what he saw. Several lines of type, bolded and impossible to miss. The meaning was impossible to miss, too.

_Timothy Rayburn, suspect in six murders, charged with kidnapping. Kidnapping victim is Shawn Spencer, son of Officer Henry Spencer. Victim (pictured at left) was found in a trailer in the woods near Gibraltar Rd. Condition – stable, but dazed. Rayburn arrested on sight._

Next to the writing was a clipped picture of a young boy, no older than five. He looked confused, but not frightened. His gaze was fixed on something beyond the camera. It was Shawn.

Shawn nearly dropped the file. He would have, if he hadn't seen the words "Arresting Officers" peeking out from behind a bend in the page. Quickly, he flipped the page.

Skimming the contents, Shawn found out that his dad had worked with a partner on the case. Of course he had! _Idiot_, Shawn thought. His hand moved self-consciously to the phone standing upside-down on the receiver.

_Beep… Beep…. Beep…_

The phone blared a "busy" tone into Shawn's ear, and he jumped, fumbling and eventually dropping it.

"Gus!" he looked up at his partner as he picked up the phone. "Speaker phone _off_ button," he gestured to the button. "Seriously."

-O-

"Where are we going?" Gus asked as they climbed the steps to the SBPD.

"Gus, don't be an annoying six-year-old girl with a penchant for redundancy," Shawn called back without thinking. "And to you really have to ask that question? Look around, Gus. Not even you could miss this."

"That's not what I meant, Shawn!" Gus protested, but dropped it.

The inside of the SBPD wasn't nearly as busy as Shawn had expected it to be. And, frankly, it disappointed and angered him. Henry Spencer was a former officer _and_ he still worked here as a consultant manager, didn't that count for something? Apparently not. Shawn made a beeline for the chief's office.

"Chief, I demand to know- Jules," Shawn's gaze locked onto Juliet, who was standing next to her partner. "I _was_ going to demand to know why you didn't tell me about my _involvement_ with this, but now I'm really hoping you found something. Please tell me you found something."

Juliet looked at Shawn. "Actually, no, I was just talking to Chief Vick about-"

"Hey, Shawn?" Buzz McNab's smiling face appeared in the doorway.

"Not now, buddy," Shawn waved him off.

"But, I have a package for you. Mailman just dropped it off."

"Oh," Shawn spun around. "Thanks, man."

"No problem. Oh, and hey, sorry about your dad. I'll let you know if I find anything," and he was gone.

Shawn stared at the package in his hand. It was thin, an 8x10 envelope. And it had no return address. Suddenly, Shawn had a bad feeling about this. Knowing hesitation would build up his apprehension, Shawn ripped open the envelope.

And stared down at a picture of his father.

**-O-**

**I have no idea what they actually put on a police report, so forgive me if it's way off. Review?**


	7. Connecting the Dots

**Hey again! I seem to have completely abandoned my original story line, so I have no idea where this is going. So it should be interesting.**

**We're going to play a little review game! After you read this chapter, in your comments, say the following if..**

**if Lassiter is your favorite character, include the word "bowtie".**

**If Shawn is your favorite character, include the word "pineapple".**

**If Gus is your favorite character, include the word "Battleship".**

**If Juliet is your favorite character, include the word "cupcake".**

**If your favorite character is someone else, include the word "cubicle".**

**Psych Quote of the Day: "I'd rather shower with a bear." ~ Lassiter**

**-O-**

**Chapter 7**

**Connecting the Dots**

_Shawn ripped open the envelope. And stared down at a picture of his father._

Shawn's face went white, shockingly white. That was Gus's first inkling that something was wrong. His gaze followed Shawn's to the slim piece of paper held in his hands – no, not held. Clutched so tightly that it was beginning to wrinkle. Gus couldn't see what was on the paper from where he stood. Maybe it was just as well.

"Mr. Spencer?" Chief Vick's voice did nothing to break through the impenetrable wall that had become Shawn.

Shawn's mouth hung open slightly. Gus doubted he was even aware of it. And then Shawn's knees buckled, and Juliet rushed to shove a chair under them. As if the sudden jolt of hitting the chair had shaken Shawn out of his state, he looked up at his friend. Gus felt a chill run down his spine. He'd never seen his friend look so – so – he didn't even know what to call it. Hopeless? Lifeless?

"Gus," Shawn's voice faltered on that one word, but it was barely noticeable because of how quiet the word came out. Shawn seemed about to speak again, but instead choked, and looked at his friend for help.

Without thinking, Gus, crossed the room to his friend.

"Shawn?"

Wordlessly Shawn handed over the slip of paper.

It was Henry. It was Henry, but it wasn't. It wasn't the Henry that Gus had known, the one with the firm ruling fist and unwavering mindset. It wasn't the Henry who had looked after Shawn and Gus, even thirty years later, holding their safety at a higher level of importance than his own. No, this was a Henry that Gus had never seen before. A Henry who was helpless, beaten, lost. Gus could barely make himself look at the ropes lashed around his wrists, the sight of it sickening him like no dead body could.

Tight-lipped, he passed the picture to the chief.

"Well," she said after a moment, clearly shaken. She looked up at Lassiter and Juliet, who were both staring at the picture laid on the desk with expressions of shock. "Lassiter, O'Hara…" for once the chief was at a loss. They'd all suspected something like this, but to see it, to have their suspicions confirmed…

"We'll analyze the picture, chief," Juliet cut in. Her gaze kept flicking from Shawn to the picture and back. Chief Vick nodded gratefully.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Juliet left, followed by Lassiter, who grabbed the picture on his way out.

The sound of the door closing knocked Shawn out of his stupor. "Do you happen to have a copy of Rayburn's case file?" he asked.

The chief handed it over wordlessly. Shawn flipped through the pages.

"Here," he said. "Officer Daniel Fulton. He was my dad's partner! Chief, do you-"

"He's dead."Chief Vick interrupted. Shawn's brief fit of excitement faded.

"What?"

"He died of a heart attack several years ago. In Florida. I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer, but we've got nothing."

-O-

The light was fading from the sky, and still Shawn had found no leads. Nothing. He stared at the phone in his apartment, wondering again if he should call his mother. But he didn't even know where she was right now, and he didn't want her worry. Plus, she'd insist on flying over, and Shawn just couldn't deal with that. Not now. Not on top of everything else.

So he turned on to TV, flicked through the channels. But he wasn't really watching. His mind kept going back to the picture. And then he'd wonder if Juliet and Lassie had found anything yet. Reassuring himself that they would have called if they had, he began to think that maybe there had been nothing _to _find. And then he would be back to picturing the photo all over again.

Every once in a while, his hand would stray over to the file on the couch next to him. He'd flip through the pages, again and again, until he'd memorized the contents. He would always pause at the picture of little Shawn, next to the picture of the inside of the dismal trailer where he'd been found. He'd wonder why he couldn't remember any of it. Why hadn't his father told him about it? He had a right to know, especially this many years later! And then he would feel anger rise in him, and he would turn the page, quickly, angry at himself.

It was during one such time that he noticed something, something he hadn't seen before. Barely visible around the side of one of the houses photographed, one of the houses believed to have housed one of Rayburn's victims, a curtain billowed out of a window in the wind. _White_ curtains. The same curtains that had been in the photograph.

Shawn leapt off the couch, grabbing his phone as he went.

-O-

Henry was glaring at Rayburn, trying to block out the annoying sound of his voice, when a bell went off somewhere within the house. And Rayburn smiled, a sinister smile that made Henry shiver involuntarily.

"Ah," he said, turning away and walking toward the door of the room. He opened it, and turned back to Henry. "It seems the psychic has arrived."

**-O-**

**Uh-oh. This can't be good… Don't forget to review, and play the review game while you're at it!**


	8. A Game of Clue

**Okay guys, I am so so so sorry for not updating sooner. And I could make all the excuses in the world, but the truth is I just didn't feel like writing. It was like half writer's block, half procrastination/laziness. But the next chapter is the climax! (And I will not wait three weeks to write it)**

**Psych Quote of the Day: "Wait for iiiiit!" – Shawn (seemed appropriate)**

**-O-**

**Chapter 8**

**A Game of Clue  
**

_"Ah," he said, turning away and walking toward the door of the room. He opened it, and turned back to Henry. "It seems the psychic has arrived."_

**Five Minutes Earlier**

"I found him, Gus."

Gus blinked, trying to clear some of the haze from his sleep-clogged mind. He glanced at the clock. 3:30 AM. He blinked again, trying to place the voice coming through the phone at his ear. Okay, Shawn, that was obvious. But what was he talking about?

Gus shot up. "What? Where? Did you call Lassiter?"

"No, of course I didn't call Lassie!" Shawn scoffed. The psychic rolled his eyes at the branch-covered sky as he balanced his motorcycle on its kickstand. Several yards in front of him, a small, friendly-looking house faced the overgrown dirt road. It was the type of house that seemed like it would belong to a newly wedded couple, just getting up on their feet. It was old, but with more of a rustic feeling. Definitely not the stereotypical type of place to find a kidnapper and hostage. But it had to be the place. It _had_ to be.

"Well why not?" Gus snapped."Shawn," a hint of suspicion was creeping into Gus's voice. "where are you, exactly?"

"Dude, will you chill?" Shawn was on the front porch of the house, peering into one of the windows. "I'm at the place, figured I'd do a little surveillance an entire SWAT team rolled up and gave this Rayburn guy even more of a reason to…"

"Shawn! Are you insane? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Gus, relax!" Shawn sighed. He pressed the doorbell.

"Shawn, was that-? Did you just ring the _doorbell_?"

"Yep," Shawn tried to block Gus's voice from his head. He was really trying _not_ to think about what he was walking into. And Gus wasn't helping.

And then the doorknob turned. "Gus, I gotta go."

"_Shawn!_"

The door began to open. Shawn swallowed, hidden in his perch behind the white stained wood. "I'll be fine, Gus," he whispered. "Beside, I have-" he launched himself around the door before he could reconsider. "-the element of surpri-! Ah – oh… Gus, I have to go… For the last time, I did not hide your pineapple behind the curtain!" Shawn snapped his phone shut.

And stared past the muzzle of the gun to Timothy Rayburn's amused face.

-O-

The room was small. But then, when the only thing in the room was a hostage-occupied chair, Shawn supposed the room didn't have to be that big. And… yep, there were those same white curtains, framing the same simple window, surrounded by the same pale walls.

"Shawn?" And there was his father.

Tim shoved Shawn to his knees in front of the chair. Shawn winced, nearly losing his balance and falling on his face. Swallowing and forcing himself to look at his father – helpless and restrained – he held up his zip-tied hands. "Hey, Dad," his voice wavered on the last word, and he shut up. He couldn't let his father, or Timothy Rayburn for that matter, catch on to how worried he was right now. _Worried, _not scared. Not weak, not afraid. Just worried.

"Shawn, what the hell-"

"Yeah, Shawn, what the hell?" Tim's voice took on a mocking tone. "Why'd you have to go screwing things up again, Shawnie? Huh?"

"Yeah – well – you-" Shawn swore, at a loss for words. Maybe he should've thought his plan through a little more thoroughly… at all, really.

"No comeback, Shawn? That's disappointing," a beeping sounded from Tim's wrist, and he pressed something on his watch. "You two behave yourselves, I'll be back in a minute."

And he was gone.

Silence stretched between father and son for several moments. Shawn looked at the shaggy carpet, the walls, the peeling paint of the door. Anywhere but at his father's face. He knew what he'd find. Disappointment. Anger. Annoyance. Disappointment.

"Shawn," his father's voice was firm, but not angry. Shawn didn't look up. "What were you thinking? Please tell me you at least called Lassiter!"

"No! You sound like Gus!" Shawn snapped, finally looking up. "What, would you have rather I stayed out of harm's way and let you die?"

"Yes!... I don't – I don't know. But I damn well know that I don't want _you_ involved!"

"You don't – you don't want _me_ involved? Dad, this is your _life_ we are talking about here! And you don't want me to get involved?" Shawn scoffed,

"No, Shawn, I don't. I-"

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before deciding to _not tell me_ about my past with this psychopath!"

"What past?"

Shawn gritted his teeth. He really didn't want to be arguing with his father, especially not now. But he couldn't help it, certainly not after that last remark. "Are you kidding me? I read the case file! Like, seventeen times! _Don't_ lie to me!"

"All right, fine, Shawn. You want to dredge up the past, be my guest."

Shawn took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Actually, I think we're both… honored guests," he nodded toward the chair. "How come I don't remember it?"

Henry sighed, suddenly looking older and wearier that Shawn had remembered. "You remember you're Uncle Tim?"

Shawn, who had been staring at the floor, looked up. "Uncle Tim? Mom's crazy half-brother from Mississippi? You're kidding me, right? You'd rather let him join the family than tell me the truth?"

"I was trying to protect you, Shawn."

"Trying to protect me? From what? I lived, didn't I? Or am I a ghost, and everyone else the psychics?"

"Shawn, don't be ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous? I-" Shawn closed his eyes. "You know what? Forget it. I don't want to argue with you right now."

Shawn waited for his father's response, but none came. The silence seemed to hurt his ears somehow, as if they were waiting to hear the reproachful comment that would follow, and imagined the pain it would bring when it didn't come. It also gave him ample time to realize that he was, in fact, stuck. And most likely an idiot. And soon to be dead. It didn't seem real somehow, like he was still expecting someone – Juliet in spandex, preferably – to come swooping in and save them.

And then the door opened, and reality came crashing down.

-O-

"Lassie? Lassie!" Gus was barely in the door of the station before he was running across the bullpen, footsteps and voice echoing throughout the empty room. He flipped on a light switch – and screamed as Lassiter's illuminated face appeared mere inches from his.

"What are you, a little girl?" Lassiter snapped.

Gus, glancing at him warily, ignored the sarcastic comment. "Is Juliet here?" he asked, glancing over Lassiter's shoulder.

"No – what? Guster, _what_ is this about? Where's Spencer?"

"Um, about that…" Gus swallowed. How was he supposed to answer that? In trouble? At the house of a serial killer? Saving his father? Running late? "He's…"

"Gus!" Juliet made her appearance then, running up behind him. "I got your message, what's wrong? Is Shawn all right?"

Gus winced. Having to bear witness to the emotions of a worried and distraught woman was not on his list of things to do tonight. Then again, neither was letting his best friend… get hurt. "Well… not really."

Several minutes later, Gus had brought Lassiter and Juliet up to speed and they were all crowded around the desk in the chief's office, pouring over the case files and racking their brains. After several unsuccessful phone calls to Shawn's cell phone, Gus had chucked his phone at the floor in frustration.

"Dammit, Spencer," Lassiter growled, yet again, at the file.

"We're still no closer to solving this than we were before," Juliet tossed her copy of the file onto the desk. She rubbed her forehead and turned her head toward the window. Even though her back was to him, Gus could see the way she was biting her lip, and her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. After a deep breath, she turned back around. "Gus, did Shawn say anything to you? On the phone?" Gus started to shrug his shoulders, but she continued. "Think, Gus. Try to remember."

But Gus couldn't think past the worry and panic that was slowly ebbing it's way closer and closer to the front of his mind. There hadn't been anything out of the ordinary with Shawn's phone call, despite the topic of it. The last thing Shawn had said, so typically Shawn, quoting a movie, was... No. That wasn't the last thing he'd said.

"He didn't hide my pineapple behind the curtain."

Juliet blinked. "Excuse me?"

Lassiter looked at Gus as if he had five heads. Although, that wasn't all that different from how he usually looked at him.

"Shawn said, right before he hung up, 'For the last time, I did not hide your pineapple behind the curtain!'"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lassiter glared at Gus as if it was somehow his fault that Shawn was so cryptic.

"Wait a minute…" Juliet paused, then her eyes widened. She began pawing through the piles on the desk, flipping open pages and shutting them just as quickly, muttering under her breath. Finally she stopped. Stared down at the page in front of her for a full minute. And looked up at Lassiter and Gus. "I know where Shawn is."

**-O-**

**But will they be too late? You'll never know. **

**Just kidding. You'll find out next chapter.**

**Review?**


	9. The Gun Goes Bang Bang

**The climax is finally here! Dun-dun-dun! Actually, I think this will be the last chapter, and then I'm going to be taking a break from fanfiction. Sorry to those of you who are currently reading my White Collar fic, but I'm putting it on hiatus. However, I am not done writing. I am just taking time to work on my other stories, which I have posted on wattpad. Please feel free to check them out, titled "Just Run" and "Shadow of Death" under the username lizhunt3r. **

**Psych Quote of the Day: "Wow. Dad. Please tell me you're wearing that shirt because someone has to spot you from space." ~ Shawn**

**-O-**

**Chapter 9**

**The Gun Goes Bang, Bang**

_And then the door opened, and reality came crashing down._

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Tim feigned embarrassment as he stepped into the room. The dusty knees of his jeans leveled with Shawn's face. "Am I interrupting something? Should I come back later?" the chuckle that followed spoke volumes. He wasn't leaving. Not until he'd finished what he'd started.

"Wow," Shawn turned to look at his father. "This guy's really a bastard, isn't he?" The psychic turn back around just in time to receive the full, stinging force of a backhand slap. His jaw dropped in surprise. "Ow!"

"I'm the bastard?" Tim seethed. Something clicked, and Shawn realized that he'd been lucky to escape being hit with the pistol clutched in Tim's other hand. He was shifting his grip, now, barely trying to contain his rage. "Me? Your father-" the gun whipped around, settling its aim on Henry. Shawn swallowed as he heard the safety click off. "-took _everything_ from me! My wife, my life! _Everything!"_

"The world was better off-"

"Stop!" Shawn yelled, cutting off his father. He was vaguely aware of his hands beginning to tremble behind his back – where was Gus when he needed him? (But no, Shawn didn't think he'd be able to take it if Gus had been stuck here, too) – and he clenched them into fists. "You – you should just – just put the gun down. Put it down," every word was a struggle for Shawn, coming out through clenched teeth.

Tim appeared not to have heard. He strode over to Henry and placed the gun at his temple, as casually as if he were flicking a fly off his forehead. Shawn's father swallowed, but kept silent. Tim looked back at Shawn, smirking at the psychic's horrified expression. "Why?"

"Just put it down. Put it down. Walk away. If you walk out now, we can pretend this never happened. You rebuild your sad – happy, happy! Happy little life, and we get to keep ours."

"Shawn!" Now Henry did speak up. "This man is a criminal! We can't just let him walk away!"

"Dad! Shut up!" Shawn shouted, his voice breaking on the last word as Tim cocked the gun. "You! Criminal dude! Just – wait!" Tim grinned, his finger sliding back on the trigger.

And then, from outside, came the sound of gravel crunching under tires. Car doors slammed. Tim pulled the pistol away, and Shawn drew in a stuttering breath, watching as the psychopath peeked out the curtains. Cursing under his breath, he turned back to his two hostages.

"It seems we have company," he informed them as he went to work unbinding Henry from the chair.

No. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Shawn held back a surprised laugh. It was! Slowly, silently, Shawn pushed himself into a standing position. Henry saw this, and nodded ever so slightly. The minute the last length of rope had fallen from the chair, Shawn swung his fists into Tim's side, knocking the man aside. The pistol flew out of his hands.

Henry pulled himself out of the chair, knees wobbling unsteadily for a moment, before diving for the discarded weapon. At the last second, Tim elbowed him away. Shawn dodged his stumbling father and rammed his body into Tim's, sending them both flying away from the gun. They collided with the wall. No sooner had they touched the ground than Tim was shoving Shawn away, treading none-too-lightly on several of Shawn's fingers and slamming his head with his boot as he made another dash for the gun.

Shawn yelled in pain as the bones in his fingers cracked and popped with a sickeningly loud sound. Towards the front of the room, Tim and Henry were grappling over the weapon. Their figures became blurred, fuzzy shapes in Shawn's vision. A loud bang punctuated the sound of grunts and shouts from the two men, and Shawn looked over, expecting to see the worst. But both men were still fighting, and neither of them had hit anything with enough force to make such a loud noise.

The front door. Someone must have kicked it open. They were about to be rescued! With this realization, a splitting pain erupted in Shawn's head.

And then Tim found the gun, his fingers closing around it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Henry by the neck and held him in a headlock position, the gun poised at his head. The world swirled in Shawn's view, nauseating him. The door to the room flew open. And Shawn blacked out.

-O-

Juliet was the first one into the room, followed by Gus, Lassiter, and Chief Vick.

Timothy Rayburn has been expecting them. He had Henry in a headlock, a gun cocked to his temple. Shawn was… where was Shawn? And then she saw him. Lying, limp and unmoving, on the floor.

"Shawn!" Juliet's voice was one with Gus's. Gus, however, was the one who made the move to rush to his fallen friend's side.

"Uh-uh-uh," Rayburn made a scolding noise as Gus tried to make his way to Shawn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Juliet swallowed, her fingers tightening on her own gun. One shot, and it would be over. But Henry was in the way, she couldn't fire without risking injuring him as well. "Drop the gun, Rayburn!" she commanded, hoping against all hope that he would.

"I don't think so," he shook his head. "How about you three drop yours? Or I'll be forced to put a bullet in Officer Spencer's thick head."

Slowly, defeated, Juliet lowered her gun. Behind her, Lassiter and the chief did the same.

"Good, now kick them over here," Rayburn ordered.

-O-

_Thud thud… thud thud… thud thud…_ _thud thud… tap._ The drumming sound of Shawn's heartbeat was interrupted by a new sound. A dull thunk, reverberating up from his foot. Startled, he blinked his eyes open. And wished he hadn't. The light burned into his eyes and his head pounded. But that wasn't the worst part. In front of him, his father was at the mercy of the man holding the gun to his head. And Juliet, Lassiter, Gus, Chief Vick, all were weaponless.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_. Something was poking his leg, repeatedly. Or was it just the memory of the first touch that he felt there? Either way, he looked down. Smiled when he saw the discarded gun lying against his shin. He moved to pick it up and bit back a cry when his fingers exploded in white-hot pain. No. Pain, even this intense, couldn't stop him now. He gripped the gun in his bound hands, face paled with the effort. A smile curled his lips as he realized no one had noticed him yet.

Aim. Pull back. Fire.

A sound like a car backfire tore into the room. Tim jolted, looking down at his shoulder in surprise, before falling backwards. Juliet rushed to catch a stumbling Henry. Gus rushed to Shawn, who had let the gun slip out of his hands the moment it had fired, and was now staring at the fallen man, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

"Gus…" Shawn's voice was hoarse. "Is he…"

"He's okay, Shawn. You got his shoulder." Gus's voice was quiet. He was still shell-shocked from all that had happened in only an hour.

Shawn swallowed, nodding. "Dad?"

"Your dad's okay, too. His nose is broken, but – Shawn?" The psychic's face had gone shockingly pale. His eyes fluttered closed. Frantically Gus searched Shawn's body for any sign of a wound, but he looked fine. "Shawn!"

"Now I know what Rick Deckard felt like in Blade Runner," Shawn groaned. "Gus, will you donate your fingers?"

"Shut up, Shawn!" Gus rolled his eyes. His friend was okay.

Several minutes later they all stood around an open ambulance, Shawn with his fingers wrapped and Henry with ice on his nose. Lassiter and Chief Vick had left to bring Rayburn to the station.

"Shawn!" Juliet ran up as the police cruiser pulled away. She threw her arms around his neck and their lips met for a brief second.

"Whoa, Jules! What's wrong? It's not like I nearly died or anything!" Shawn grinned.

"Shawn, Henry was the one at gunpoint," Gus pointed out.

"Yes, and I saved him and now we're both okay."

"_And_,"Juliet added with a smile, "Timothy Rayburn's being charged with _two_ attempted murders. He's going away for a long time."

Shawn nodded and offered a half smile, but didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at his father, who was looking off into the night, silent. Juliet followed his gaze.

She turned to Gus. "Gus, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Gus followed her gaze and nodded. "Of course."

Shawn watched them go for a long moment. His two best friends in the entire world, who, without, he would be dead. Probably several times over. He looked at his father again. The light of the moon added more shadow to the wrinkles lining his mouth as he frowned. The ice pack on his nose was beginning to leak.

"Dad," he said. It came out quieter than he intended it to, and he tried again. "Dad."

His father turned to look at him.

"I'm… sorry," Shawn began. He didn't know what else to say. He sucked at this sentimental stuff. "I don't care who you date. Well, that's not entirely true, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I shouldn't have snapped at you that morning. On the pier."

For a moment, Henry was silent. "Shawn, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

And that was enough. Shawn nodded and pursed his lips. He looked down at his hands, his good one picking at the bandaging on his bad one. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. And the next thing he knew, his father was pulling him into his arms.

For the first time since he'd found his father missing, Shawn relaxed.

**-O-**

**Aww! Such a sweet ending, right? I guess this is where I would say **_**fin.**_

**Don't forget to review!**


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